


Round Two

by Emospritelet



Series: Drinking To Forget [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, F/M, Fingerfucking, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Sex Positions, Oral Sex, Public Masturbation, Really just smutty smutty smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 22:04:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12442731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emospritelet/pseuds/Emospritelet
Summary: Detective Weaver finds that Lacey didn't appreciate him walking out in the middle of the night after all the sex they had, but he soon finds a way to make it up to her.I can't stop writing these two having sex, please send help.





	Round Two

**Author's Note:**

> Yay for more Woven Lace smut! I find this pairing incredibly erotic, gotta say. Hope you enjoy :)

The sound of the alarm was unwelcome and jarring, piercing his sleep and making him jerk upright, the sheets pooling around his waist.  Detective Weaver swore under his breath and reached over to turn it off before falling back into the pillows with a sigh.  Six in the morning, and he had had around three hours’ sleep.  Looked as though it was going to be a two-coffee breakfast, at least.

He felt marginally better after a shower and shave, dressing in jeans and a white shirt and pulling his holster over the top.  His muscles ached, and a glance in the mirror as he buckled his belt told him everything he needed to know.  He looked like what he was, a man in his early fifties who worked too much, drank too much and had had far too little sleep the night before.  Lacey French had stamina.

They had ordered Chinese food, eaten sitting on her battered couch with some God-awful show playing on the TV which neither of them watched, and she had poured them each a shot of cheap whisky.  Then he had taken her back to bed and done his best to fuck her into a coma.  He had left around two-thirty, Lacey curled in the bed asleep and looking adorably dishevelled, and he had made the journey back to his own apartment, falling into bed and cursing the coming dawn.

He made eggs, scrambled with butter in the pan and served up with toast and a side of mushrooms, and ate it sitting at the table, the coffee pot in front of him.  The radio played in the background, local news delivered in a passionless tone as the newscaster spoke of a serious fire in a warehouse down on Arendelle Street.  Not his area, but no doubt he would be updated at the station.  He took a gulp of coffee, waiting for the caffeine to hit his brain and give him the kick up the arse he needed.

“You look like shit.”

Alice’s voice made him start, and he glanced across at the open window, rolling his eyes as he saw her hanging on the iron railings of the balcony, tousled blonde curls fluttering in the breeze.

“Good to know,” he said, taking another sip of coffee.  “What are you doing up this early?”

“Wanted to see if you made it to your own bed last night.  Would make a change.”

“I’ve worked a lot of night shifts this week,” he said.

“Would one of those happen to involve a certain brunette with great legs?” she asked, grinning mischievously.  Weaver picked up his coffee cup.

“Mind your own business.”

“I can’t, I’m naturally curious,” she said blithely.  “It’s what you like about me.”

He gave her a look, and inclined his head.

“If you want some breakfast, get your arse in here before you fall and kill yourself.”

Alice scrambled over the railings, her little plaid skirt riding up and exposing most of her legs, clad in thick black tights with chunky boots, which he presumed made climbing around the buildings easier.  She pushed open the window and slipped inside, grabbing a mug before dropping into the seat across from him and reaching for the coffee.

“You got peanut butter?”

“Usual place,” he said.  “I can do some eggs, if you like.”

“Nah.”  She poured coffee, licking a droplet from her finger as it splashed upwards.  “Toast’ll be fine.”

“Clean up after yourself, then.”

She rolled her eyes, took a slurp of coffee and went to put some bread in the toaster before slipping back into her seat.  Weaver took another drink, scooping up the last bite of his eggs and pushing the plate away.  Alice craned her neck ostentatiously, looking him over, and he decided not to bother querying it.

“So, your date went well,” she said, winking at him.

“I didn’t have a date.”

“You have a hickey on your neck,” she said.  “So unless the guy you left lying in the alley last night did it, I’d say you and the brunette had a _great_ night.”

“I’d say that’s my business.”  He frowned.  “Wait, you saw what happened?”

“I was hanging around on the roof,” she said, which didn’t surprise him.  “Oh, but I left when you two started sucking each other’s faces, don’t worry.  No way I wanted to see whatever happened next.”

She wrinkled her nose, and he grinned.

“An excellent decision, believe me.”

“She’s probably way too young for you,” she added, running a critical eye over him.  “And you drink too much, you know that?”

“When did you become my mother?”

“Thank God I’m not.”  She lifted her cup.

“So how about you take your nose out of my sex life and tell me what I pay you for, then?”

Alice sighed, leaning back in her chair and taking a gulp of coffee.

“Fine,” she said.  “Ivy Belfry’s been sneaking out when her mother’s back’s turned, and I’m not sure yet if she’s dating someone Victoria would disapprove of or there’s something else going on, but give me a day or two.”

“Okay.”

“I heard Victoria plans on tearing down the apartment buildings across from Roni’s and replacing them with offices,” she added.  “Oh, and she said that if Roni won’t sell to her, she’ll find a way to make her.”

“Situation normal, then,” he said dismissively.  “Anything on the actual criminal front?”

“The guy who tried and failed to attack you is called Keith, and he works for George King,” she said.  “I reckon his balls are the size of pumpkins by now, and from what I hear the female population of this city would thank you for that.”

“So, he was one of King’s men?” he said, taking another drink.  “Interesting.  King doesn’t usually show his hand to the police.”

“Oh, I think the guy was working under his own steam,” she said.  “He’ll be in trouble with his boss for bringing your eye down on him, I should think.”

“Well, perhaps King or one of his goons will take care of the problem for me,” he said, pouring more coffee.  “Keep an eye on him, let me know what happens.”

“Sure thing.”

“What about this fire down on Arendelle?”

“Insurance job,” she said dismissively.  “Nothing in it to worry you.”

The toast popped, and she got up to grab it, throwing it onto a plate and opening the cupboard to take out the peanut butter.  The toast made a harsh sound as she spread it, and she used the knife to slice it diagonally, dropping back into her seat and licking peanut butter from her thumb.  There was silence for awhile other than the crunch of her toast and the drone of the radio.

“You done with that coffee?” she asked, gesturing to the pot.

“No, but I’ll split what’s left with you.”

“Better than nothing.”

She poured the coffee between their cups, taking a large bite of her toast.

“When do I get paid?” she asked, her mouth full.

“End of the week.  Are you okay for money until then?”

Alice nodded, chewing.

“Anything else you want me to look into?”

“Just the usual,” he said.  “Let me know if there are any other newcomers, though.”

“No worries.”  Her eyes sparkled as she chewed.  “Want me to look into the brunette for you?”

“Her name is Lacey French,” he said.  “And I very much doubt she poses a threat.”

“Maybe to your heart,” said Alice, and he rolled his eyes.

“We’re hardly true love.”

“No, I just meant that if you spend all night screwing, you might have a heart attack and die.”

“Remind me again why I feed you?” he said, as she giggled.

“Because you secretly think I’m wonderful.”

“Must be a good secret if even I don’t know it,” he said, in a very dry tone.

She winked at him, making him grin, then stuffed the last of her toast into her mouth and washed it down with coffee.

“I should get going,” she said.  “I’ll check in with you in two days.  Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

She drained her coffee cup, and bounced out of her chair, heading for the window.

“Use the bloody front door, for fuck’s sake!” he snapped, and she sighed, turning on the balls of her feet and sweeping him a mocking bow before flouncing out of the apartment, shutting the door after her.  Weaver looked at her empty plate, crumbs scattered across the table and countertop, his mouth flattening.  Bloody typical.

* * *

There was an air of frenzy at the station, much of the officers taken up with the investigation of the Arendelle Street fire, which had spread to another two warehouses before the fire department could put it out.  Arson was suspected, either as an insurance scam or a rival business attack, and Weaver was glad not to be put on the case, after what Alice had said.  It sounded as though it would be about as thrilling as watching paint dry.  At least no one had been killed.  His day was filled with irritating telephone calls, dealing with paperwork, and a new murder case that was probably tied in with George King’s hitmen and at least looked as though it had the potential to be interesting.

He spent most of the afternoon and evening in one of the seedier parts of town, employing what might have been an unorthodox questioning technique, but one which he found effective, namely holding the man’s head underwater in a large barrel until he was ready to talk.  Not exactly correct procedure, but then the ratty little man was hardly likely to file a complaint against him.  Besides, he got the information he wanted with only wet sleeves for his trouble, so it was worth it.

It was another late night, and when he woke at six feeling groggy and drained, he told himself he’d take it a little easier that day.  Luckily the various investigations he was looking into were progressing well, and there were no new cases that couldn’t wait until the next day, so he managed to finish most of the work that was due, and to delegate anything he couldn’t get around to.  He left the station around seven, too wired to want to go home, and sauntered over to Roni’s, his eyes sweeping the streets in his usual, guarded way.  He had half hoped to see Lacey, but the bar was quiet, just a few of the usual patrons standing around and talking.  Where had she said she worked again?  Mr Cluck’s?  Not even the memory of a night of hot sex could make him want to set foot in that place.

Roni was giving him a knowing look as he approached, and she leaned on the bar with her hands, her mouth twisting.

“Detective,” she said.  “Two nights this week.  Is this a social call, or are you looking for someone?”

Her eyes seemed to gleam as she said it, and he sensed that she was teasing him.

“I’m off duty, Roni,” he said.  “Double whisky, please.”

“You got it.”

She took a glass from the shelf behind her, pouring him a double measure and sliding it across the bar, and he nodded his thanks, leaning on the bar with folded arms.

“Quiet?” he asked, and she wrinkled her nose.

“More quiet than I would like,” she admitted.  “Guess it’s too close to payday, right?”

“As good a reason as any,” he agreed.  “Anything going on that I should know about?”

“Two kids trading weed for what were probably stolen computer games,” she said.  “Two of your guys came along earlier and dealt with it.”

“So, _nothing_ going on that I should know about, then,” he said sarcastically.  “What about a little further up the food chain, hmm?  I hear you’ve been having some issues with the lovely Ms Belfry.”

Roni frowned.

“That bitch can bite me,” she said, with feeling.  “Doesn’t like being told no, that’s her problem.  It’s no big deal, she’s just trying to up her offer for this place.  I’ve told her to shove it.”

He nodded, taking a drink and setting down the glass.

“So you walked that girl home, then?” said Roni, with an air of disapproval.

“I did.”

“Uh-huh.”  She eyed him as she ran a cloth over the bar.  “You fuck her?”

“Repeatedly,” said Weaver, showing his teeth.  “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Hmm.”  She looked disapproving.  “She’s too young for you, you know.”

“You had no problem serving her drinks,”  He took a sip of whisky.  “She’s old enough.  Hardly a blushing virgin, I assure you.”

“I don’t want to know,” she said flatly.  “And for the record, you’re disgusting.”

Weaver inclined his head, taking another drink.

“I’ll remind you that you did ask.”

“So are you two an item, then?”

“I thought you didn’t want to know?” he said dryly, and she shrugged, glancing over his shoulder.

“Oh, I was just curious,” she said.  “Given that she’s walking in here and she just saw you and she looks as though she could chew rocks.  Maybe your technique needs polishing.”

She smirked at him, walking off to serve someone else, and Weaver turned to see Lacey storming up to him, tight-fitting black dress barely covering her arse and a short red coat flaring a little as she walked.

“You _left_!” she snapped, and he raised an eyebrow.

“You were asleep, and I had to get up early.  I didn’t want to wake you.”

“So what, you can’t write?” she demanded.  “No note, no ‘thanks for the mind-blowing sex, here’s my number’?”

“You obviously knew where to find me,” he said dryly.  “Hardly a massive inconvenience, was it?”

“God, you’re such a _jerk_!” she grumbled, and he grinned.

“Drink?”

“Fine!” she sighed, and he signalled to Roni.

“Have a seat,” he said, turning to face her and leaning on the bar with an elbow.  “I could ask you about how your day went, or something equally crass.”

“Yeah, don’t bother,” she grumbled.  “My feet hurt and I had to shampoo twice to get rid of the smell of the fryers.  My day blew.”

She reached for the whisky Roni slid across the bar, and he took a sip of his own.

“How are you otherwise?” he asked, and she turned to him with a mischievous smile.

“After you banged me until I passed out, you mean?  Not bad, considering.”

Roni made a disgusted noise, rolling her eyes as she walked off, and Weaver ignored her.

“Good,” he said.  “Because yesterday I felt as though I’d been hit by a train.”

Lacey giggled, her eyes sparkling.

“Does that mean you won’t be up for round two?” she teased.  “Pity.”

“Oh, I didn’t say that.”  He took a drink, and she nodded.

“Good, because that was probably the most fun I’ve ever had with my clothes off.”

She clinked her glass against his, and they both drank.

“Two more, Roni,” he called.  “With a little less disapproval, if you please.”

Roni gave him a very level look, picking up the glasses between finger and thumb and turning away.  She replaced them quickly, and Weaver pushed one across to Lacey.

“Thanks,” she said.  “So, is this a thing, then?  I meet you here and you buy me whisky and then we go and fuck our brains out somewhere?”

“Well, I could also buy you dinner again,” he said mildly, and she chuckled.

“Okay, you’re on.”  She took another drink.  “So, what’s new, Detective?  Solve any crimes?”

“One or two.”  He grinned at her.  “Anything you think I should be investigating, Miss French?”

She pouted, as though she was pondering her response.

“Well, I have some new underwear,” she said.  “I don’t trust it not to fall off later.  You should probably look into that.”

“Really?”  He sipped at his whisky.  “You’d better give me a description so I can keep a lookout.”

She bit her lip, her eyes sparkling.

“It’s blue lace,” she said.  “A thong and a balconette bra set.  Very small, but it covers what needs covering.  Just about.”

“Yes, it sounds very suspicious,” he said, grinning at her.  “I can’t have rogue lingerie running around the neighbourhood causing trouble.”

“Well, in that case I think you should investigate it later,” she said, with a firm nod.  “I’d feel much safer knowing I have some police protection.”

“And what if my investigation leads to an accusation against you?” he asked, and Lacey batted her eyelashes.

“Oh, I’m innocent of all charges,” she said.  “But you might want to give me a pat-down, just in case.”

“Consider it done.”

“We’ll save the cavity search until we’re somewhere more private,” she added, and he chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

“If you insist.”

“Oh, I definitely do.”

Lacey reached out, hooking a finger over the waistband of his jeans, and he felt a shiver go through him at the feel of it sliding against his skin as it pushed between his shirt buttons and beneath his undershirt.  She slipped from the stool, suddenly very close, her eyes gleaming, and he could smell her perfume, familiar from their time together.  The finger tightened, pulling him closer, and she licked her lips, leaving them soft and glistening.  He wanted to kiss her, and from the look in her eyes, she bloody well knew it.

“Come on,” she said.  “Let’s go sit down.”

She tugged him with her, her finger rubbing against his lower abdomen and causing mild arousal, and he let her draw him to one of the booths in the far corner.  They slid onto the padded seat, setting their glasses on the table in front, and Lacey slipped her finger out of his jeans, running it up his torso and grasping the open collar of his shirt, pulling him closer.  Weaver reached up to run a hand over the soft curve of her cheek, and she closed her eyes momentarily, the tip of her tongue wetting her lips.

“Kiss me, then,” she said softly.

He bent his head to press his lips to hers, the taste of the whisky in her mouth as he slipped his tongue inside.  She moaned a little, shifting closer, tugging him against her, and his fingers sank into her hair, stroking across the nape of her neck.  His other hand slid over the curve of her hip and into the hollow of her waist before brushing over the swell of her breast.  Lacey moaned again, and he could feel himself begin to swell as he squeezed her.  He leaned back a little, breaking the kiss, his lips pulling at hers, and she let out a low, contented hum, her eyes flicking open to fix on his.

“That’s a much better greeting than me yelling at you, I guess.”

“Probably the most enjoyable we can have in public, anyway,” he said, and she grinned.

“Don’t recall you being too shy in the alley in front of that guy you beat up.”

Weaver shrugged.

“I think the man had a little more on his mind than what I was doing to you.”

“Hmm.”  She draped her arms around his neck, resting her forehead against his.  “Well, gotta say that you did that _very_ well.”

His lips brushed hers, and he felt her cool breath on his mouth.

“I can do it again if you like,” he murmured.

He ran the tip of his tongue around the hollow formed by her lips, and Lacey giggled.

“Yeah, we should probably be somewhere a little less crowded,” she said.  “I don’t want to get barred from this place.”

“Maybe we should drink the whisky we bought, then.”

She nodded, pulling back and taking off the little red coat she was wearing, and they both sat back a little and picked up their glasses.

“How is it that you come in here alone?” he asked.  “No friends?”

Lacey pulled a face.

“Kinda new to this area,” she admitted.  “I work with a girl called Jacinda, who’s really nice, but she has a kid.  Doesn’t really lend itself to drinking in bars.”

“No, I guess not.”  He took another drink.  “Where did you move here from?”

Lacey frowned, swirling the whisky in her glass.

“Oh, I kind of moved around a lot,” she said.  “Never stayed too long in one place.  It’s been - I don’t know, it’s been hard to find somewhere that really feels like home, you know?”

“I think so.”  He drained his glass.  “Where did you grow up?”

“Melbourne,” she said.  “We moved to the US when I was ten, after Mum died.  Florida.  I headed north when I left home.”

“And you’ve never thought about going back to Australia?” he asked.  Lacey shrugged.

“Nothing for me there, either,” she said.  “I told you, nowhere feels like home.  I’ll probably move on again in a couple of months.  Maybe Canada, or over on the east coast.  Who knows?”

“How will you know when you find what you’re looking for?” he asked, and her mouth twisted as she thought.

“I don’t know,” she said eventually.  “I think - I think sometimes you just _know_ , right?”

“I’m probably the wrong person to ask,” he said.  “But maybe you’re right.”

She drained her glass, cheeks puffing out as the whisky filled her mouth, and Weaver held up his.

“Another?”

“I’ll get ‘em,” she said, pushing to her feet and taking the glass from him.

He watched her walk to the bar, tight black dress clinging to her curves, and he thought of the night they had spent together, of stripping her naked and letting himself drown in her.  He remembered how she looked when she came, and the sounds she made, and how she tasted on his tongue when he licked her.  The thoughts made him harden in his jeans, and he licked his lips as she walked back, her hips swaying invitingly.  She set down the whisky glasses, and squeaked as he grabbed her with an arm around the waist, pulling her onto his lap.  Lacey giggled, bending to kiss him, her fingers stroking through his hair, and he pulled her closer as his tongue slipped into her mouth.

She pressed herself to him, small breasts pushing against his chest, and he let out a low, rumbling groan at the taste of her.  Her hands slid lower, brushing over his chest, her thumbs finding his nipples through the shirt and rubbing over them.  He broke the kiss with a gasp, and stroked his fingers over her ankle, siding up over the firm curve of her calf.  Her skin was smooth and soft, beautifully pale, and he remembered how her legs had felt wrapped around him.  Lacey was sending him a knowing grin.

“You look as though you’re plotting something, Detective.”

“Oh, I am.”  His fingers walked up to her knee.  “I’m wondering how long it would take me to kiss all the way up from your toes.”

The flat of his hand slid upwards, over her inner thigh, and Lacey sucked in a breath.

“That’s something I’d like to find out too.”

“Good.”

He ducked his head to kiss her again, the hand sliding in between her legs, fingers brushing the edge of her underwear, and she moaned into his mouth as he began to stroke her through the lace.  There was already wetness there, soaking through to coat his fingers, and he rubbed at her, swirling and circling, her breath hot as she waited for the press of his mouth again, the taste of her sweet on his tongue.  His finger pushed beneath the edge of the lace, dipping in between her folds, and Lacey moaned, pushing against him.  His tongue stroked hers, his arm tightening around her waist, and the finger slipped inside her, pushing deep, his thumb finding the nub of her clit.

Lacey moaned again, her fingers clutching at his shirt, and he kept up the rhythm, feeling her body tensing in his arms as the sensations built.  She ground her rear against his cock, making him break the kiss with a gasp.  A throaty giggle bubbled out from her, and her eyes gleamed at him as she rubbed against him again.

“I know you want me, Detective,” she purred.  “I can feel it.”

“Oh, I want you, Miss French,” he breathed.  “But first I want to see your beautiful face when you come.”

He kissed her again, his finger sliding in and out of her, and she gasped as his thumb swirled over her clit.  She moaned, her eyes closing, and he watched as she came, her cheeks flushing, her lips moist and swollen.  He felt her clench around his finger, and growled as her juices coated his hand, his mouth finding hers to swallow her tiny cries of pleasure.  She was rocking against his hand, and his tongue flicked against hers as she slowed and stopped, their lips parting with a wet sound.  Weaver drew his fingers out of her underwear, slipping them into his mouth, and he let out a low groan as he tasted her bliss.  Lacey was catching her breath, her eyes bright, her cheeks pink with arousal.

“You wanna get out of here?” she asked, and he nodded.

“I don’t care where.”  Roni’s disapproving voice made them both look around.  “Just go get a fucking room, would you?  People came in here to drink and talk, not watch a damn porno.”

“Their loss,” said Lacey, with a shrug, and Weaver patted her leg.

“She’s overreacting,” he said, making Roni scowl.  “The table was in the way.  No one saw.”

“They can see you with your tongue down her throat,” she said flatly.  “If you must embarrass yourself by acting like a horny teenager, go do it in your own place.”

“An excellent idea,” he said, picking up his drink, and Roni marched off back to the bar.

Weaver drank his whisky, enjoying the burn in his throat, and Lacey followed suit, banging her glass down on the table and slipping from his lap to pick up her coat.  She tugged it on, grinning as she looked him over.

“Sure you want to go out in public with that?” she asked, gesturing at his crotch, and his very visible erection.  “You should be careful, you might take someone’s eye out.”

He couldn’t help chuckling, and he stood up, reaching into his pocket for his wallet.

“I think I can take that risk,” he said.  “You want to come to my place?”

“Sure.”

He went to pay their tab, earning a glare from Roni, which made him grin.  Lacey took his arm as they left the bar, pressing against him as they walked.  At least it wasn’t bloody raining, for a change, but the wind was cold, and he wondered at the girl from Australia who came out in short skirts and bare legs and didn’t seem to feel it.

“You want something to eat, first?” he asked.

“Hell, no,” she said decidedly.  “I want to see if I can beat the number of orgasms I had last time.  Then we’ll eat.”

Weaver chuckled, steering her down a side street towards his apartment block.  She had her mouth on his ear as he was unlocking the door, and they were barely inside before she threw off her coat and grabbed the lapels of his jacket to pull him to her for a kiss.  He kicked the door shut, and she pushed him against the wall, their teeth clicking together.  Lacey giggled into his mouth, pulling back, her eyes sparkling.

“Where’s the bedroom?” she asked, and he gestured in its direction.

“There are condoms in my pocket,” she added, nodding to her coat.  “You might want to bring them with you.”

She walked off, hips swinging, and Weaver locked the door, drawing the chain across and shrugging out of his leather jacket.  He hung it up, picking her coat off the floor and placing it next to his, and dug in her pockets until he found the condoms she had stashed there.  He drew out two, and followed the path she had taken, skirting the couch and pushing open the bedroom door.  Lacey was waiting for him, the warm light from the bedside lamp making her skin glow, and he ran his eyes over her, licking his lips as he thought about what he wanted to do.  She raised her chin, the light of challenge in her eyes.

“Take the shirt off,” she said.  “You have a nice chest, and I want to see it.”

He felt a grin creep across his face as he threw the condoms onto the bed and unbuttoned the shirt, and she looked him over as he shrugged it off and let it fall to reveal a white undershirt.  Lacey pouted.

“No fair!” she complained, and he shrugged.

“Winter gets cold.”

“Okay, so now the undershirt,” she said.

“Oh, I think you should take something off first,” he said lazily.  “It’s only fair.”

“I’m wearing like three things!” she complained.

“So lose one of them.”

Lacey sighed, then bent to grasp the hem of the dress.  She pulled, lifting it over her head, and his grin widened as she cast it aside, leaving her naked except for powder-blue lace, a tiny triangle covering her mound and a bra that pushed her breasts high, the darker nipples showing through the lace.  Her dark curls swung around her shoulders.  She was so beautiful it made his mouth go dry, and he felt that flash of recognition again, that nagging thought that he knew her, that he had known her for what felt like a lifetime.  Her lips curved in a wicked smile.

“See something you like?”

“I’m just remembering what you said about your underwear falling off,” he said.  “I’d be happy to look into that for you.”

“Nice to see a guy so dedicated to important police work,” she said, with a smirk, and he inclined his head.

“Well, our motto is ‘Service, Pride, Dedication’, after all.”

“Good.  Get over here and service me.”

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” he remarked, and she stepped up to him, cupping him through his jeans, and pursing her lips.

“Feels like I’m not the only one,” she said softly.  “Is that your weapon, Detective?”

He grinned.  “Let’s hope I’m not too quick on the draw.”

She giggled, squeezing him.

“Oh my God, that’s terrible!”

“I believe you started this war of puns and innuendos.”

“Want to call a truce and talk dirty instead?” she asked, and his grin widened.

“As you wish,” he said, and jerked his head.  “On the bed.  On your knees.  I’m gonna finger you until you scream.”

Lacey bit her lip and turned, giving him a delightful view of her rear as she climbed onto the bed.  He pulled the undershirt over his head and bent to take off his boots and socks, unbuckling his jeans and stepping out of them before stripping off his underwear.  He climbed onto the bed behind her, running his hands over her hips, and Lacey gasped as he tugged at the thong, pulling it down.  He drew it off at her feet, throwing it aside, and reached between her legs, making her moan with the touch of his fingers.

“God, you’re soaking!” he breathed.  “Ready for me, are you?”

“Fucking get on with it!” she snapped, and he grinned.

“Have a little patience,” he said.  “I believe you already came once this evening.”

“Yeah, and I—”

She cut off with a moan as he brushed over her clit, and Weaver’s grin widened.  He pushed a finger inside her, a second sliding in beside it.  She was as soft as velvet, wet and hot and gripping him tight, and he began to thrust his fingers in and out of her, the muscles in her back bunching and pulling as her body rocked back and forth.  He ran a finger down the groove of her spine, watching as goosebumps rippled over her, and Lacey moaned, pushing against his hand.  His fingers flickered over her clit, and her moan became a cry.

“God, you feel good!” he whispered.  “Just touching you makes me remember how good you felt to _fuck_!  Getting deep inside you, hearing you scream, feeling you come all around me!”

Lacey whimpered, and he quickened his thrusts a little, fingers sliding against her tender skin.  His cock was rigid, his balls aching with the need to be inside her, and he could feel that she was close.  He slipped a finger into his mouth and drew it out, leaving it wet and glistening.  His other hand was still thrusting, still stroking, and he pushed the tip of his wet finger into her tight rear opening, until Lacey let out a cry that was almost a scream.

She came hard, jerking against him, shouting her pleasure, and he felt the flow of her juices on his fingers.  He groaned, pushing himself against her, feeling her shudder with the force of her orgasm.  She let her head drop, gasping for breath, and he drew his fingers out of her.

“Okay?” he asked, and she nodded silently, her head still down, her curls flowing across the bedclothes.

He shifted position, lying on his back with his legs hanging off the end of the bed and his head pressed against her knee.  Lacey was still panting, and he patted her leg.

“Straddle me,” he said.  “I want to taste you.”

She shifted, taking her weight onto her hands and sliding a leg over his head so that he was gazing up at the wet, swollen core of her.  He pressed a kiss to her, fragrant liquid blotting his lips, and she moaned again as his tongue swept through her folds.  He groaned at the flavour of her, at the scent of her, and there it was again, the spark of recognition, of déjà vu.  It was gone almost immediately, and he swept his tongue in a circle, hearing her breathing quicken, feeling her rock against his mouth.  She was building to another orgasm, and he wanted her to come again, wanted to taste it on his tongue and drink it down.

He slipped a finger inside her again, thrusting as he licked, and Lacey moaned, pushing against him, her breathing ragged.  She was shaking, her thighs trembling as they gripped his head, and he ran the flat of his tongue over her clit in a rough, frenzied motion as a cry of pleasure burst from her.  Salty fluid splashed on his tongue, and he sucked it from her with a contented groan, swallowing all she could give him.  Lacey was moaning and bucking her hips, and he ran his tongue all over her, catching every drop of her pleasure.  She slowed and stopped, her breath coming in pants, and he slipped out from between her legs, standing up and climbing onto the bed behind her as he grabbed a condom.

“Sure you’re okay?” he asked.

“No, my brains hit the walls,” she mumbled, and he grinned.

“We could take a rest, if you like.”

She raised her head, giving him a look over her shoulder.

“Would you just get inside me, already?”

“With pleasure.”

He rolled the condom on, shifting on his knees until he was pressed up against her.  He lined them up, and Lacey threw back her head as he slid inside her with a deep groan.

 _“Fuck!”_ he gasped.

“Remember not to be too quick on the draw, Detective,” she said, and he barked a laugh.

He began to move, thrusting in and out.  Lacey gasped as he sank deep, his balls brushing against her, and he gritted his teeth as he tried to keep his pace steady, to take it slow when he wanted to fuck her fast and hard.  Her arms stretched above her head, her hands fisting in the sheets, and he reached around to touch her, rubbing around her swollen clit and making her moan.  She felt incredible, but he wanted to see her face, and so he slipped out of her, pushing her onto her back and pulling her thighs apart.  Lacey reached for him, her eyes heavy-lidded, her lips full and wet.  He thrust up inside her, sinking deep, and she let her head roll back against the pillows, her back arching as her knees drew up.

“Fuck, you feel good!” he rasped.  “So hot and wet and tight all around me.  Squeezing my cock like you want me to fucking burst!”

Lacey’s eyes gleamed.

“Like this?”

She clenched her muscles, and he groaned.

“ _Fuck_ , Lacey!”

“Yes!” she whispered.  “Fuck me!  Fuck me hard!”

He groaned again, thrusting into her, grinding his hips to rub against her, and she moaned, her nails scoring his shoulders, her body tensing.  He kissed her, tasting the salt of her sweat, their bodies rubbing together, and he could feel his climax building, ready to break through him.  She pulled her mouth free, a moan coming from her, and he licked up the length of her throat, quickening his pace, slamming into her.  He came with a loud cry of pleasure, throwing his head back as he thrust deep, feeling as though electric shocks were rippling through his body.  His cock pulsed, spurting inside her, and Lacey rocked her hips, her cries joining his as she came.

He continued to thrust inside her, pulling every drop of his seed until he was spent and breathless, and he collapsed down onto her to catch his breath, pushing his face into her neck.  Lacey’s chest was heaving, and she stroked his hair with her fingers, her knees dropping down as he softened inside her.  He pushed up on his elbows with a shuddering sigh, sliding a hand down between them to grasp the base of the condom before pulling out of her, and Lacey sent him a lazy, heavy-eyed grin.

“Wow,” she remarked.  “Doesn’t get any worse, does it?”

“You’re going to kill me,” he told her, and her grin widened.

“What a way to go, right?”


End file.
